


Sneezes in threes

by winterysomnium



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Sickness, Tim has a flu and Kon helps, mentions of snot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 07:53:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6365557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterysomnium/pseuds/winterysomnium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim sneezes, three times in a row, and so far, being sick in Smallville, Kansas, has been more educational than he has expected it to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sneezes in threes

**Author's Note:**

> asexualginko asked: timkon- someone gets sick? Hope you're feeling well soooon uvu loves you a lotttt <333333
> 
> (This might be one of the cheesiest things existing without having any actual cheese in it.)

Tim sneezes, three times in a row, and so far, being sick in Smallville, Kansas, has been more educational than he has expected it to be. He’s convinced Kon is a genie now, without doubts, if there are genies who can be summoned by sneezes in threes and always (always) appear carrying an unopened pack of scented tissues when they emerge.

(He’ll have to ask Oracle, later.)

“Kansas is out of tissues,” Kon announces, joking and Tim blows his nose in answer (deepening the Kansas paper tissue crisis 2016, just a bit more), his nose red raw, scratched dry, stuffed to the point Tim can’t recognize Kon’s home’s scent anymore, can’t tell their detergents apart and something besides the wet cough weights down on his chest, like he’s lost more than air and a lot (a lot) of snot.

“I didn’t know Kansas had a death flu going on when I was flying over,” he complains.

“And you’d think that breathing all that polluted air in Gotham would make you immune to pretty much anything,” Kon says, throws the  damp, crumpled tissue away, wipes his fingers on his jeans (gross) and then pauses, thinking. “Actually, it makes perfect sense that you got sick.”

“And I can’t even complain about how the fresh and clean air here burns if I can barely breathe at all. Sucks.”

“Good thing is I can’t catch whatever it is you have.” Kon smiles, his fingers find the back of Tim’s neck, buried in the pillows, find his impossibly rumpled hair, never to be untangled again, his drying lips and tired brows, the touches spark _might’ve been_ ’s, things Tim has misplaced his strength for, he can’t even fly himself home.

He doesn’t _want_ to fly home, doesn’t have to, since home’s where the heart is and his heart fights through everything along the way, his heart’s where his feet are and with Kon, with Kon it’s never the ground.

Kon kisses his shoulder, soothing.

“Nightwing aka your unfortunately named brother called.”

“What’d he say? Why didn’t he call my phone?”

“He offered to pick you up if you wanted to. And he did call your cell, you were asleep.”

“Okay, makes sense,” Tim says and the confusion smoothes itself out of his brows. “But I’m not going back until we do all of the things on that cheesy list of yours you’ve written down for us to do. Or until aliens attack. One or the other.”

“You’re a _jackass_ when you’re running a fever. But in a real nice way.”

“You make no sense when I’m running a fever. _And_ you’re too warm, so decide: the covers or you.”

“Shouldn’t you decide that?”

“Requires too much thinking.”

“Okay, so,” Kon starts, nonchalant. “Not to blow my own horn here or anything but can the covers refill your glass of water without you leaving the bed _or_ hold your hand _or_ sing any of your favourite songs? I mean, about the songs, neither can _I_ , but I can find them on your iPod.”

Tim snorts, then coughs, then punches Kon on the shoulder. He turns to his side, his cheek pressed against the worn, thin flannel of Kon’s shirt, the buttons cloning itself onto his jaw but Kon anchors him, softly, sneaks his arm up Tim’s (Kon’s) sleep shirt, lazily doodles onto his lower back.

“Next time I’m getting a flu shot before I decide to visit you,” Tim mumbles and Kon ducks to kiss him, quickly.

He’s immune to the human flu, after all.

(And Tim _hates_ needles.)

((But he likes Conner, just a little bit more.))


End file.
